


Winter When It Comes

by jadenanne7



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadenanne7/pseuds/jadenanne7
Summary: Sansa Stark was the first to bend the knee. Ice always yields to fire.





	Winter When It Comes

Sansa Stark was the first to bend the knee. Arya followed suit, however begrudgingly, and soon all of Winterfell knelt before Daenerys Targaryen. It would have been foolish to do otherwise. Ice always yields to fire.

The Queen's coming was expected, though no word was given. Rumors had spread all the way to Winterfell of Jon Snow's dalliance with the Queen, and Jon had proven a loyal lapdog, abandoning any and all plans of conquering the Iron Throne himself. It was probably all for the best. Men had fucked up the kingdoms almost beyond repair.

The Queen - or the Khaleesi, depending on who was speaking of her- alit from the sky on the back of a great dragon, circling Winterfell like a raven before landing inside the gates. Jon was not far behind, eyeing Sansa and Arya with a wary expression, as if they were still the irritating little sisters who lived to embarrass him. Sansa's lip quirked up when she felt Arya start to fidget beside her. Well... he may have been wary for a reason.

He did not attempt to embrace them, not that Sansa had expected him to, not in public, anyway, but he smiled, and Sansa returned the smile. Bastard brother or not, she had missed him.

Sansa had prepared a welcome, as warm as she could manage, and took a single step forward to give it.

She stopped in her tracks.

There, slightly behind Jon but definitely in a more prominent position than the rest of the riders, sat Tyrion Lannister, Sansa's husband. Or was he? She had long assumed him dead. Were they still married when Ramsay...? Was she an adulteress?

Probably.

He was angry with her, she knew. She had left her own husband for dead. How was he not dead?

"Sansa Stark. Lady of Winterfell," The Queen addressed her, breaking her attention from Tyrion. "I am so pleased to finally meet you." 

"I think you are mistaken, my Queen," Sansa ventured carefully. She had heard the rumors. One wrong word... "The Lady of Winterfell was my mother. I do not hold a title."

"You do now." With a few words Sansa could not understand, the Queen signaled her dragon to lower his great body and allow her to descend. Sansa could feel Arya's breath hitch beside her, and she took a protective step forward. "Men have held dominion for too long, Sansa." Sansa agreed, nodding curtly. From the corner of her eye she caught Jon's blush. "I think it's time we do something about that," the Queen continues. "Let's start with making you the Warden of the North."

A year ago Sansa would have protested. A lot had changed in a year. She smiled, dropping a curtsey like the Lady her mother had taught her to be. "I thank you for your generosity, and for your protection."

She hoped.

"Of course. Whenever you may need it. And you may need it soon, unfortunately."

Of course. Winterfell would get caught in the crossfire of whatever the Queen would cast down on King's Landing.

Winterfell would be ready.

"I understand. Until then, please let us play host to your company. We've plenty of room and plenty of good wine." Sansa hoped they'd drink Ramsay's wine 'til it was good and gone. With Tyrion there, it wouldn't be a problem. Sansa lifted her eyes to the Queen's company, avoiding Jon's searching gaze to meet two mismatched eyes. She gave a little smile and a slight nod, and to her immense relief, was given a wide grin and a nod in return. Maybe Tyrion didn't quite hate her after all. "If you'll follow me, My Lady..."

"Dany, Sansa. It's Dany," the Queen interrupted, smiling as if they'd known each other for years. "We're going to need each other in the weeks to come, and I'd rather us need each other as friends. And I am sleeping with your brother," she added slyly under her breath. "If that doesn't make us friends then I don't know what does."

Blushing, Sansa nodded and extended her arm. "Allow me to show you to your quarters, My... Dany."

It was going to be a long visit.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Not even a hello for your favorite little sister?!"

Arya's voice rang through the hall Jon had caught his sisters in, accusing and playful at the same time.

"Ceremony, Arya. Ceremony. There's a way things work."

"And if Arya had paid attention at her lessons she'd know such things," Sansa cut in. "And she'd also know that such conversations should be held in private. My quarters." Jon nodded gratefully, and the three journeyed to their parents' old bedroom. He showed little surprise that Sansa had taken it over, just as he showed little surprise at Sansa being named Warden of the North. Perhaps he had turned the Queen's thoughts in that direction... though how Sansa didn't want to know.

"I thought the Night's Watch took a vow of Celibacy." Arya wasted no time digging into Jon, and Sansa was ever so glad they were now out of earshot.

Jon took it in stride. "Vows mean very little when White Walkers are tracking your every move. When you've died and been roused from the dead. When Daenerys Targaryen arrives at your bedside with the intent to seduce you. A vow made in boyhood means very little in comparison." Sitting heavily at the end of Sansa's bed, he stretched his hands towards them, as if warding off the questions they surely had.

"Died?" Arya whispered, the blood drained from her face.

"Raised from the dead?" Sansa hissed. "Impossible."

"Witchcraft," Jon offered. "But I'm here and I'm me and I don't want to discuss it."

"Tough tit."

"Arya!" Sansa scolded, though she knew it would do no good.

"Please! I should never have said anything," Jon begged. "Can't it just be enough that I'm here and that we're together?" It would have to be enough, for he would discuss it no further, no matter how much his sisters questioned him. He turned the conversation instead towards Bran. "I've heard that Bran is doing well," he started, ignoring Arya's rolling eyes. "Why was he not brought out to greet us?"

"Bran does not venture far from the towers." Sansa hesitated to disclose just why, but Jon was Bran's brother and he deserved to know the truth. "Bran seems to believe that he can see the future."

"He can see the truth!" Arya insisted, indignant on her brother's behalf. 

"He has visions."

"And they come true! Every time!"

"That doesn't mean that they always will, Arya! That doesn't mean that we should live and die by what he sees." Frankly, Sansa was sick of that particular conversation. As much as she trusted Bran, and as much as she believed his words, she was not willing to pick up arms based on a vision, and not willing to ask those still loyal to the North to do the same.

"What does he see?" Jon asked quietly.

Arya smirked and Sansa held back a sigh.

"War."

Much to Sansa's surprise, Jon did not seem troubled. "So do I," he said, glancing out of Sansa's window at the dragons still circling the grounds. "And so do you. It is coming."

"And I'll be ready." Arya stepped forward confidently, hand on her sword, looking for all the world like the little girl that left Winterfell so many years ago... so much that Sansa's heart skipped a beat.

"Needle can only do so much, Sweet Sister." Jon may have been jesting, but Sansa could sense the pride behind his words. He was touched that Arya had kept the sword. As he should have been. Such sentiment from Arya was rare.

"If you knew what Needle has done you wouldn't be able to sleep at night."

So much for sentiment.

"I have a feeling I'm going to hear all about the horrors Needle has wrought, but can we save that for a better time, Arya?" Jon stood and put his arms out for his sister, pulling her into an embrace she reluctantly allowed. "Tonight I just want to sit in peace with my sisters. Tomorrow we discuss a possible alliance with Cersei Lannister and all thoughts of peace will fly away."

Sansa's eyes grew wide. How could he? Cersei Lannister was the most evil woman Sansa had ever come in contact with, and had birthed the most evil boy to ever sit a throne. How could Jon even consider an alliance with her?

"Temporary. A temporary alliance." Jon reached out a had and Sansa took it, allowing him to bring her into the embrace he shared with Arya. "Winter is here and war is coming and if the kingdoms do not band together we will all fall. I do not fancy the thought of my sisters among the White Walkers thousands, and, honestly, I'd rather not have to picture myself that way either. Dany has her dragons and we are gathering an army, but the South has thousands of men primed for war. Together, I believe we can defeat the Night King. But only together."

Laying a head on her brother's shoulder, Sansa closed her eyes and tried to forget the picture playing out in her head. Jon, Queen Daenerys, Cersei Lannister, and Tyrion Lannister standing side by side, facing down the Night King. It was a terrible thought.

"So..." Arya's voice cut through Sansa's daydream and Sansa was ever so grateful for her sister's big mouth. "How was it to get fucked by the Dragon Queen?"

Sansa covered her ears and tried not to hear the answer.


End file.
